


Sorin versus Tibalt

by Carliro



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Gay, M/M, Romance, Stensia, Yaoi, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carliro/pseuds/Carliro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the descriptions of the duel decks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorin versus Tibalt

Moonlight bathed the mountains of Stensia, painting the ancient rocks in various tones of silver and white. Sorin gazed upon the now open, myst-less valleys, the darkness of the province cleansed by lunar radiance, Avacyn's essence. With the archangel restored, Innistrad now knew a semblance of peace, and Sorin's presence was progressively less needed, and in fact brought about new risks. With one last watch, Sorin began assembling the plane's mana, channeling it through his loyal sword, preparing himself to leave.

Suddenly, a burst of heat and orange light disrupted the night's white chill, and behind the ancient vampire stood an entourage of devils, emerging from the flames like soot, as if solidifying smoke. They giggled and chanted cacophonous yelps, their blood like skin a bizarre compliment to the brown rocks and golden flames, their eyes mesmerizing yet cruel sparks. None of them even dared to close in on the planeswalker, preffering to giggle madly at a safe distance. Sorin casually dismissed these critters with a condescending scoff, and continued his ritual.

"Well well, seems like luck has favoured me again!" said what appeared to be a giggling young man's voice.

Sorin turned, and was mildly surprised at what he saw. Emerging from the smoke was a human sized and proportioned devil well covered with refined brown leather clothes, giggling madly as the other devils, yet his eyes burned with a dark sapience. Come to think of it, it appeared to be more of a human with a devil's skin tone, horns and tail carelessly shoved in.

"I trust you're the hooligan who's been carelessly inconveniencing the nephalian cathars?"

"Indeed I am!" said Tibalt, prancing around Sorin, "Though I am quite hurt that you think my art is a mere inconvenience."

"Dear, you are but a nuisance. You honestly seek to waste my time just to inform me of what usually occurs every ten seconds?"

Tibalt bit his lip, some frustration flashing briefing in his face, quickly replaced by his usual grin.

"I am quite sad to hear that, but no, I am not here to discuss my art, though surely you should check it. I heard you vampires are connoisseurs of the finest, and what is an artist but perfection's greatest lover?"

Sorin grinned condescendingly at the fiend-blooded, and casually sheathed his sword.

"I might actually have time to entertain you. Enlighten me on your desire."

With absolutely no caution, Tibalt aproached the vampire, his hands grabbing Sorin's shoulders.

"I've heard you're a planeswalker" whispered the devil blooded at the vampire's left ear, his hands lowering down Sorin's arms, "So am I."

"You want tutouring?"

"In a manner of speaking" Tibalt said, in a deeper, softer voice, which Sorin interpreted as an attempt at a seductive melody.

His right hand passed beneath the other planeswalker's arm, touching the silver armour clad chest, the devil talons drawing circles in the rugged white metal. His other arm followed suit, and he was pretty much embracing the millenium-lived vampire from behind, their torsos finally meeting. Tibalt passed his hands through the chest plate, dove his face into Sorin's neck and hair, already giving up any attempts at rational seduction in favour of a kiss massage.

"Oh my, so enamoured already?"

"Skip the talking please" said Tibalt in passionate frustration.

The series of kisses moved forward towards Sorin's jawline, and from there the lip clash was quick and almost casual leap. Sorin, almost predictably, dominated the kiss, reducing the proud half-devil into moaned whimpers. Slowly, the embrace disrupted to allow a frontal approach, and both planeswalker's hands were free to explore in greater detail.

"Have any private quarters?" asked Sorin, disrupting the kiss.

"I know an abandonned mannor down in the valley" Tibalt whimpered, desesperate to taste Sorin once more.

The vampire, backed by millenia of experience, noticed this, and responded with a cruel grin and denial. At this point, Tibalt almost felt an empathetic epiphany in regards to submission, before deciding he enjoyed it.

***

The dawn crept slowly on Stensia, though faster than normal. Orange, then gold, then white filled the room, passing through large windows, shattered in several places. Surprisingly, the bed was still fairly decent, clean sheets covering the exhausted planeswalkers. Sorin was the first to rise, largely because how sleep was merely a recreational activity these days. Tibalt was still deep asleep, clinging tightly to the vampire's frame. Sorin smiled warmly, and kissed his forehead. It was bizarrely charming how a psychopathic sadist converted into an adoring, resting muse after a night of intense buggering. He decided to wait for the fiend-blooded's eventual awakening, passing his hand softly through Tibalt's hair.

Innistrad always had a way to bring Sorin's nurturing side to life.


End file.
